From Jenny at Mama Drama:

Breaking news, people! Scientists have proven that most mothers don’t get enough sleep.

Proving that most moms don’t get enough sleep is like proving that men dislike having their testicles kicked repeatedly with a boot, or that the majority of Americans aren’t afraid of rainbows.

Go read her whole post, it’s funny.

Yes, you need to go on a Spa Weekend with us, Miss Jenny. You deserve more. Just… more. That’s all. When are we doing this spa weekend, anyway? It was a fantasy at first, but now I want a Blogger Mommy Spa Weekend to really happen. I’m thinking San Diego. E-mail me if you’re interested.

Also, my BlogHerAds should soon be up and running. Also, please click on my Google ads and help me pay for my daughter’s impending braces spa weekend. Eh, we can do another re-fi for the braces, right? Also, OUR DOG SLEPT THROUGH THE NIGHT LAST NIGHT WHAT A GOOD BABY! WHAT A GOOD BOY! OH, C’MERE, GOOD DOG, LET ME GIVE YOU A BISCUIT, WACKY DOG, GOOD BOY!

It’s been storming here like a mofo. Also earthquaking. (Just a little 2.6, fear not.) The dog is a mess. Scratches and claws at the bedroom doors when we’re trying to sleep, throws his body at them in an attempt to get in. Once inside, climbs on the bed and tries to sleep curled around our heads.

He is no cat.

He is Fat Lab and weighs 85 pounds. Also, he is old and smelly. (Forgive me for saying so, but it is the truth. My dog is stinky.) Wacky Dog sleeps all day and frets all night. I’m waking him up right now, dammit. WAKE UP, WACKY DOG! GO CHECK ON THE KIDS!

He asks: Will the house shake again? What if the cats can’t protect me? What if the kids aren’t in their rooms? Their doors are closed, how do you know for sure? Please, God, help. I’m only a dog, I have no opposable thumbs to open doors. Don’t make me pee outside again, it’s scary out there. Wet and loud.

Then we gave him sedatives night before last, to try to ward off a freak-out, but turns out the sedatives make him freak out, too. Who knew? Then yesterday he was a bigger mess, sprawled on the back porch, getting drenched in the pouring rain, not breathing. Seriously. I thought he was dead. He was not dead, it was just the tranquilizers finally kicked in was all. Last night, we left Wacky Boy’s door open and he and the cat slept in there. Relief. We all slept. The storm calmed down and now seems to have returned. Extremely wet here in Oregon, especially along the coast. Rivers flooding, people’s houses wrecked, trees toppling. Scary.

When I get stressed I need a nap. WAKE UP, WACKY DOG! No sleep for you.